


Bad Influence

by Mimsys



Series: Tipping the Scales [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bullying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, GSA, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Bucky Barnes, canon abuse mention, just build up, mama bear barnes, not major, of Steve's dad, they're not dating yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 22:00:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3334361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimsys/pseuds/Mimsys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve started hanging out with Bucky Barnes, the church-goers tittered amongst themselves, saying Bucky Barnes would be a bad influence on ‘poor little Stevie’. They couldn’t have been more wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Influence

When Steve started hanging out with Bucky Barnes, the church-goers tittered amongst themselves, saying Bucky Barnes would be a bad influence on ‘poor little Stevie’. They couldn’t have been more wrong. Steve had a propensity for getting into trouble that Bucky was less than supportive of; the brunet stepped in often to break up the fights, only saying _I’ve got a little sister; I’m used to standing up for the little guys_ when asked why he bothered. It’s after one of those not-uncommon encounters that he actually stayed to talk to the blond, kneeling before him on the floor of the bathroom and taking smaller hands in his. “You alright?” He asked softly, earning a dry snort.

“Alright as I can be, thanks.” Steve replied dryly, raising one hand to touch his bloodied lip. “I’ve been better - but that said, I’ve been a hell of a lot worse.” 

The blond’s shaky on his feet when he stands and Bucky moves forward at once to wrap an arm around his hip to support him; he hadn’t expected for Steve to yank away but he supposed he should have. Steve had just been attacked; he had no reason to trust anyone. What he _doesn’t_ expect, though, was for Steve to double over with a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. “Shit, kid, you okay? You going to hurl?” Steve’s breathing is ragged, messy, and Bucky cursed, reaching out for him again - only to be stopped by a hand raised to press against his chest.

“You smoke.” Steve choked out and it didn’t sound like an accusation, though Bucky certainly thought it _should_ once he realized what the other meant. “Shit. You’ve got asthma, right? I’ve seen you out on the track with Wilson; you’ve got an inhaler. You got it on you or should I run for the nurse?”

 

“‘m fine.” The frailer male replied, stumbling over to the sink and dampening a handful of coarse, brown paper towels; he pressed them over his mouth, only wincing as they caught on his now split lip. “I have my inhaler, yeah, but I can’t afford to waste doses when it’s not needed.” It took him a few minutes to catch his breath, thin chest heaving beneath a too-thin shirt, cheeks paling enough that Bucky took a step closer, ready to catch him if he fainted, worry clear in the brunet’s eyes. “Really.” Steve protested, “I’m fine. Don’t suppose I could get the name of my savior?”

Bucky can tell he’s being sarcastic, likely defensive after his run-in with the bullies, but he doesn’t blame him; if anything, fond indulgence tints his voice when he replies. “Bucky Barnes, kid. You’re Steve Rogers, right?”

“Yeah.” He sounds wary, like a cornered animal. “You mentioned Sam? You friends with him?”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head, “Nah, we fought when we first met, but he’s acquaintances with Nat so I see him around sometimes. He’s a good guy, though; why isn’t he the one pulling you out of fights?”

“There’s only so much one person can do.” Steve returned easily, smiling despite himself, “He can’t be there for every fight.”

The other considered that for a moment before nodding, “Looks like I’ll have to be on alert too; I’ll get it in mind.” 

 

The next time they meet, Steve’s planted himself between one of the same assholes as before and a freshman with brightly dyed purple hair known for being in a relationship with another girl. She’d been shoved up against a locker and Steve hadn’t hesitated in breaking up the fight - or, rather, allowing himself to be the new target. His pale skin was flushed with anger and his teeth were bared in a furious snarl. When the fight comes to blows, a punch sends him crashing into the lockers with a short, pained cry, and his ears ring when he pulls himself back to his feet; his vision is gray around the edges for a moment and he almost doesn’t notice the hand settle on his waist, calloused fingers rubbing soothingly at his jutting hipbone.

He twisted away, not realizing who it was until strong arms curled around his arms and pulled him close, fingers locked over his belly button and a broad chest supporting his back. “Gods, you idiot; I thought I was going to have a heart attack when I saw you get thrown.” Bucky’s voice is tight with worry as he rasps the words, and Steve doesn’t doubt him; the hands against his stomach are trembling slightly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Steve rasped out, grimacing as his sore body protested the lie. “Think I might need to head home, though.” Admitting defeat isn’t easy but it’s not like he still has classes to attend; he’d been heading to the GSA meeting and while he enjoyed having a safe place in the school, he was aching. His mother wouldn’t mind, wouldn’t even notice, because she’d been working late at the hospital every day that week, and his father was probably too drunk to care. Hopefully.

“Want me to call someone for you?” Bucky asked, pulling Steve away from his thoughts. “You look a little too banged up to drive yourself.”

“Oh,” Steve’s brow crinkled in confusion, “No, I’m fine. Thank you, but I was just planning to walk.” It’s how he usually got too and from school after all, at least since his bike got mangled by his father in one of his drunken rages.

Bucky scowled at the teen in his arms, brow just as furrowed. “Absolutely not. I’ll give you a ride, alright?”

“No, absolutely not.” Steve’s reply is immediate and cold, tone cutting. “My father will be home and he… he’s not really someone you want to cross, yeah? So just stay out of it.” He’s released with a sigh and turned to Bucky, “He’s a veteran, tries to find a cure for his nightmares at the bottom of the bottle. It doesn’t really work, so it’s best to avoid him.”

“He’s an alcoholic.” Bucky replied, not really questioning. “Does he hurt you?”

“Not enough to matter.” And then the little blond spitfire’s running off, whole stance screaming of tension, without a backwards glance.

The first thing Bucky did once he got home, besides putting up his motorcycle gear, was throw out the beer in his fridge.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos/comments if you enjoyed!


End file.
